


The bag stays on

by xVanilla_Cherriesx



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, also im very bad at dialogue so most of this is nondialogue imsorrydontkillme, i also cant write anything but oneshots or it will never be finished, theres nothing more to expand if you want to headcanon your own thing you can, this is headcanon territory YOUVE ALL BEEN WARNED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xVanilla_Cherriesx/pseuds/xVanilla_Cherriesx
Summary: When Dr. Flug was born, the first face he ever saw was shrouded in a brown paper bag.This is not really a realistic headcanon, just something done for fun.





	The bag stays on

**Author's Note:**

> see summary. also this is unbetaed as usual. also, do i really think whats in the story fits with canon? absolutely not. i just thought it was a fun concept to keep in the head. the theme of this fic does not really fit in with the theme of the show.
> 
>  
> 
> edit: while re-reading this i realized i forgot to put that the parents wore paper bags all the time explicitly. dont get confused folks @_@  
> edit 2: glass hat typo made me cringe fixed it

When Dr. Flug was born, the first face he ever saw was shrouded in a brown paper bag. The nurse was impatient to get the “freaks” checked out as soon as possible, not wanting to get any more bad attention from the unusual couple who refused to take off the paper bags. Dr. Flug spent most of his babyhood in his crib, safely locked away in his house.

As Dr. Flug turned older, however, his parents came to a horrifying conclusion.

“Honey, he looks just like you,” Dr. Flug’s mother exclaimed when he turned four. Her husband lent out his hand to comfort the near hysterical woman as she started to sob on the floor.  Dr. Flug only observed the crying woman with confused eyes.

The next day, his mother put a paper bag over his head. At first, Dr. Flug struggled intensely, refusing to wear the bag. His mother told him that he would be able to keep the bag off his head while he was inside the house but no exceptions otherwise. Dr. Flug was forced to agree with these negotiations.

When he attended school on his first day, the paper bag was there. The coarse feeling of the bag brushed on his smooth cheeks with turn of his head. His breathing had automatically become labored, eating up what little oxygen could be contained from the insides of the bag. Two smoothly cut out holes were the only reliable lens to the outside world.

He remembered the disturbed look on his kindergarten teacher’s face when he first stepped into the classroom. He remembered the disturbed look of the other children as they choose to sit as far away from him as possible. He remembered the argument that had exploded between his parents and the teacher who threatened to pull him out of the school if they didn’t agree to the conditions. They claimed whatever they could- mental illness, second-degree burns, anything to let him keep the bag over his head. Eventually, the teacher and school administrators stopped fighting the parents and let the boy keep his mysterious bag.

Once, his second-grade teacher asked him if he liked the bag over his head. He shook his head. The teacher was sympathetic towards him the entire year and never bothered him. All his teacher felt sympathy- or was it pity- and made the effort to not ostracize the boy for their weird condition. The same could not be said for the kids, however. They restlessly questioned why he had the bag over his head, how he could eat, if he ever took it off when he was home, if he was ugly under the bag. After the questions would come the insults about how he was a weirdo and he would never be allowed to play with someone if he couldn’t even show his own face.

Dr. Flug felt burdened in his social life. In school, however, he excelled far more than the other kids. He was always the top of his grade in school and was eventually transferred to honors classes. He was especially talented in science, always winning the science fair with some basic but impressive inventions.

Except for keeping the paper bags on, Dr. Flug’s parents were very lenient as well. They allowed him to go biking or even bought ice cream for him occasionally. They were very proud of him as he won the science fair every year in elementary school. They praised him for his genius mind and effort poured into all his schoolwork.

Eventually, the dreaded day came when Dr. Flug would ask the question.

“Mommy, why do we have to wear the bags?”

Dr. Flug’s mother carefully eyed him for a moment before gently whispering to him that he was too young to know. Some nights, Dr. Flug would hear his mother and father have intense fights in the kitchen. He would put his face near the door of his bedroom door and hear the shrill shriek of his mother’s voice combating with the gruffness of his father’s. He felt dizzy listening to the only people who cared about him the most left in the world.

As Dr. Flug grew older, his talents in science grew more impressive for the world to see. In high school, he even was recognized by many people and managed to make friends with other nerds at his school who ignored the paper bag. Though he still couldn’t snatch a girlfriend, he supposed that having somewhat of a social life was enough for him.

The night he won the science fair for the umpteenth time, he was invited to a small party thrown together by his friends to celebrate. There were lots of drinks, some which he was not old enough to have. He adamantly refused to have even some of them, knowing that he would have to specifically lift the bag to his nose to drink any liquid.

“Come on, Flug, just a little drink. You gotta admit you deserve it after all that hard work!” One of his friends said. All his friends began to chant for Dr. Flug to have the drink. He remembered all those times his mother told him not to take off the bag, all those times where he had unanswered questions. He thought darkly that this was his _mother’s_ fault for not telling him why he had to keep the bag on.

So, he pulled the bag up to the bridge of his nose. All his friends were excitingly looking on, gasping at the sight of his pale skin. Then, to his indignant cry, the bag was swiped completely off his face in one quick motion by one of his thoroughly drunk friends. Everyone started to freak out over his face, complimenting how cute he was behind the bag.

Dr. Flug decided to keep the bag off that night. He giggled along with his friends and all his worries were washed away. He distinctly remembered feeling a very short burst of anger at his mother from keeping this from him. The happiness and joy of freedom of him being able to breathe fresh air not obstructed within the contains of a paper bag.

He left that night before his curfew drunk enough to forget to put the bag on while walking to his house. When Dr. Flug arrived at his house, his mother shrieked at the sight of his un-bagged face, scolding him thoroughly for pulling it off. However, he was too drunk to really process the words that his mother was throwing at him.

“I can’t believe it. We’ve always taken good care of you and you’ve betrayed us like this! You’re going to ruin us all! You can do whatever you want, Flug, but you know and I know that the bag stays on!” His mother frantically began to yell at him. Dr. Flug remembers drunkenly yelling something about untold reasons before passing out on the couch.

When Dr. Flug woke up to the sounds of sirens the next day. He watched his unmasked parents get carried away in cuffs. A government official approached him and explained the grave situation.

His parents used to be a pair of mad geniuses, who used to commit their lives to villainy. They went into hiding when he was born but they had to repent for their past crimes against society. His mother was sobbing for Dr. Flug to stay safe and keep out of trouble and to not make the same mistakes as she did. The father could only silently comply with the police officer and the last look of guilt in his eyes haunted Dr. Flug to the present.

Dr. Flug didn’t know if the arrest was connected to the fact that he did not wear his paper bag that night. Either way, he blames himself for one reason or another. In that pit of time, he began to shun himself from everyone. He was relocated with a pair of relatives who lived close enough to be driving distance but far enough that he had to move schools. He didn’t bother keeping contact with his old “friends” who he thought he could trust. He began to shut down on school work even, the only grade he bothered keeping perfect was his science grades.

He tried his hardest not to flinch when he found out that his parents were sentenced to life in not even a normal prison, but a high maximum-security one that were specialized for supervillains. He didn’t need to watch documentaries to know that they were riddled with corruption and crime within its walls.

After his parents were arrested, Dr. Flug kept the bag over his face constantly. He didn’t care about the weird looks he got from his relatives or his new teachers. He didn’t speak unless he was prompted to do so, and he stopped entering the science fair every year. He became a shadow in the back of the classroom. He was fine with the title of being the weirdo with the paper bag over his head, anything to not garner anyone’s attention.

After high school, Dr. Flug attended medical school with the money his parents left for him. He remembered the only times he bothered to slink out of his dorm was when he attended lectures and when he ate. Otherwise, he strayed far away from people and kept busy in his own dorm. Despite coming out of medical school as the top of his class, he found it extremely hard to find a job for one specific reason.

“Why do you have a bag over your head? Are you crazy? You’re wanting a professional job with that thing over your head?” That was the usual reaction. Dr. Flug still never took off his bag. He even slept with it most of the times. He found that the bag had become just a part of his face. He doesn’t like going out or staying alone without it. It’s become a symbol of stability for him.

Some people offered the job only if he would take the bag off. Dr. Flug refused and walked out, like any insane person would.

Eventually, Dr. Flug ran out of options and he was forced to turn to the same profession his mother warned him away from. He went to the job interview where he met face-to-face with the _real_ deal. A black faced demon with a glass eye and a black hat that lived up to his name.

“Hello, m-my name is Dr. Flug,” Dr. Flug introduced himself timidly. Black Hat took one unimpressed glance over his attire (not including his face) and Dr. Flug suddenly felt a little underdressed for the occasion.

“Alright, ‘Dr. Flug’, tell me: what can you make that is marketable towards villains?” The slimy voice rasped out with impatience and a threatening undertone.

“W-Well, I’ve been i-inventing things ever since I-I was a little kid. I brought with m-me the freeze ray gun that I-“ Black Hat swiped the gun away from Dr. Flug’s hands before he even finished explaining and he aimed it at the nearest potted plant and pulled the trigger. A bright blue ray shot out and hit its target, crystallizing the plant in a solid wall of pure ice in a split second. A sinister smile broke out on Black Hat’s face.

“You’re hired,” The villain immediately said. Dr. Flug was surprised.

“W-Wait! Y-you’re just going to hire me? I-I mean you don’t even know what I look like under this bag!” Dr. Flug cried out with disbelief. Black Hat only snorted in response.

“Well, Dr. Flug, I don’t need to keep tabs on my minions to be able to work with them. That’s the government’s job. I have something better, something called loyalty. I just need you inventing to keep the customers happy. I don’t give a damn about your sob story about your bag,” Black Hat explained. Dr. Flug felt the feeling of awe and admiration towards the man wash over him.

“Also, if you ever cross me, I’ll make sure your life becomes a living nightmare,” Black Hat casually added.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Flug agreed. He was smiling under his bag.

The bag stays on.


End file.
